I love Hawke!
by birthofthecool
Summary: Hawke and Merrill after the end of DA II. Merrill has been captured by the templars and is put to torture. Will Hawke be able to rescue her before she is killed or turned into a tranquil. FemHawke/ Merrill
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's ramblings:**_

X

_I loved the bit of dialogue, when Merrill tells Aveline that she loves Hawke, because she felt it needed to be said. _

_In my play-through with Merrill as LI, it really lead to an emotional reaction on my part._

_To explain this, I get deeply immersed into games, wouldn't bother to write about them if it weren't the case. _

_DA II manages to get me down, especially in the third act. _

_Hawke really fails more times, than he/ she succeeds. There are so many quests that end in people dying, when you want to save them; even people you first save, or show mercy to, die later or turn on you._

_It is a bit depressing; so when Merrill talks about her feelings for Hawke (it was near the end of the game in my playthrough) it made me really glad._

_It was like, at least Hawke has Merrill at her/his side._

_I felt this much more than with Isabella as LI._

_I like Isabella a lot, but in the end I felt the relationship between Hawke and her isn't as deep as between Hawke and Merrill._

_Anyway, this story resulted from my thinking about Hawke and Merrill's love and what they may have to face after the events of DA II._

_As always in my stories:_

"" indicate speech

"" _+ cursive text are for expressed thoughts_

_and **bold** **and/ or cursive** also act to put special emphasis on certain words._

Disclaimer: I own neither the characters nor the settings, they all belong to Bioware. Let's hear a loud "Thank you!" for the great games they give us.

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><p>X<p>

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**I love Hawke!**

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Chapter One

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The sharp resounding noise of an armoured hand meeting soft flesh echoed through the dark cellar, followed by a suppressed, painful gasp.

"Damn it, woman! Why won't you talk? It gains you nothing. We will find the champion anyway and it only worsens your fate if you don't help us."

Only one torch, fastened to the wall besides the crude door illuminates the damp room.

The walls are not plastered and made up of rough stones, tarnished with mould and something like a yellow moss.

It reeks of unwashed bodies, excrements and blood and even worse of death and decay.

There are four people in the room.

Two are regular templars, dressed in their bulky armours, they seem to be down on their luck, pressed into acting as prison guards in the templar fortress of Tantervale.

The third wears the less bulky garb of a hunter and he is the one standing before the fourth person in the centre of the room.

He is perhaps around 30 years of age, of medium height with thinning hair, a small moustache and a weak chin. His eyes are cold and find delight in his work, there's a mean streak visible around his small, thin-lipped mouth.

In the hard, wooden chair, the frame of the young dalish hangs limb in the shackles which fasten both her arms and legs onto the piece of furniture.

She is dressed in what's left of a short green tunic and nothing else.

Her delicate features are covered in bruises and grime, so much so, that you can barely recognize her Vallaslin Tattoos.

Apart from already bruised over wounds, there are quite a few which still bleed or at least shimmer with fresh blood.

Her hair is clotted together by blood and dirt, her nose is broken, her right eye is almost completely swollen shut, only a small slid remaining.

Her breathing is laboured, each breath accompanied by a wheezing sound. She coughs in short intervals and seems to be on the edge of unconsciousness.

But her tormentor won't allow her that escape.

Next to him on a small trolley, his tools are laid out.

He chooses a small needle-like blade, with a hand grip.

Then he grips the elf's left hand, rams the tip of the needle under her ring-fingers fingernail, until it hits bone with a sickening sound and then yanks the blade upwards, ripping the nail loose.

The elf screams, her head slams back against the headrest of the chair.

In quick succession the templar follows through with the routine on two more fingers, until he reaches her pinkie and leaves the blade embedded into it.

"No, no my sweet. No saving yourself by fainting. If necessary I'll use potions to keep you awake."

He grins sweetly and almost as if he were caressing her,gently strokes the elf's cheek.

"Now, my sweet, why don't you tell me where Lorelei Hawke is hiding?"

The elf fights for another ragged breath and simply shakes her head, before it falls down on her chest again.

Her tormentor grips her by her hair and pulls her head backwards and up, so that she is forced to bare her throat and face to him. He moves closer, his hot breath steaming in her nostrils, with the most revolting shemlen stench she has ever witnessed.

He smells of wine and garlic and of bad hygiene. Suddenly Merrill is thankful for the broken nose, which is almost completely closed by dried blood.

"_Not that I smell any better, probably I smell much worse... Oh, **ma vhenan.** I don't know how much longer I can keep going. It hurts... it hurts so badly."_

His lips are so close to her skin, that it feels almost as if he is kissing her and she tries to shirk farther away from him, but to no avail. There is no place to retreat to in this unyielding piece of furniture.

X

"Listen, knife-ears! There are two options for you, little apostate. We know you are a blood mage, we know you consorted with demons.

You were living in sin with the so called champion of Kirkwall and were part of his coven of apostate mages along with the abomination Anders and Hawke's Grey warden sister.

Your crimes are to numerous to be counted and would easily be enough for ten death sentences.

Yet in his unbelievable mercifulness, Knight-Commander Maedhros has allowed me to offer you your life, albeit as a Tranquil."

X

Merrill shudders with disgust, both because of the disgusting shemlen and because of the idea she would prefer to live as a Tranquil, to dying.

The templar grins sweetly again. He seems to know what she's feeling.

"If you don't want that, there is another alternative. Just think about it, we can at least stop hurting you.

You'll get good food, fresh clothes, a bath, we'll treat your wounds. You'll even get a regular mage's quarter until your sentence is delivered.

The champion and you, you are both doomed anyway, but you can at least spent your remaining days like a human being."

Merrill's blistered lips, move into the caricature of a smile. Through her dry throat and parched mouth, she forces her words.

Her usual just slightly brittle, melodious voice sounds jarring to her own ears.

"N-no. N-never."  
>No more energy, but these two words are enough. He isn't even worth this effort.<p>

Merrill doesn't understand it and never will. In the battle between the mages and templars in Kirkwall, she witnessed many times, how the templars attacks pushed the mages over the edge.

Clawing desperately for the power to escape their oppressors and losing themselves to the demons instead.

Yet if the templars hadn't attacked, would all these mages have turned? Some might, but never all of them. And Orsino? He was a good person, kind and full of care for the mages he lead.

Still, the templars pushed him and kept pushing until he did the unthinkable.

"_Their cruelty knows no bound, we are not living, thinking beings to them, we are but a scourge to be exterminated._

_If this were not the case, how could they torment me so? Falon'Din, I implore you! I can't fight any longer, please just guide me beyond the veil."_

Pain pierces through her thoughts and pulls her back into the hands of her tormentor.

The stench of burning flesh fills the room, as he presses a red hot blade into her cheek. Merrill screams again, as the sizzling noise of her boiling skin fills the room.

When the torturer finally stops and pulls the knife away, it leaves her skin with a sickening, rending sound and Merrill feels the flesh breaking into a raw wound.

"Why? Why do you keep protecting her? She has abandoned you to your fate, so much is clear. Why are you so stubborn."

Something inside Merrill's heart forces her to answer. Maybe, just because she wants to let someone know it before she dies. Someone should know it.

"I love Hawke."

Three words, but for Merrill they explain everything.

Obviously it's not the case with the templar hunter.

He backhands her with full force, drops the knife and starts to beat her savagely with his armoured fists.

This time it's too much for her already weakened body and the elf is actually thankful when darkness closes in around her.

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"Knight-Lieutenant Maeglin? You better stop here, there's not much left of her anyway."

The guard is speaking calmly, in an awkward way. They know the Knight-Lieutenant here.

He hates mages with a passion, due to his family falling victim to an abomination, but more than that, he likes violence, especially against female prisoners.

The more attractive the better.

"_If the Knight-Commander had thought this through, he would have sent some other interrogator. Maeglin is probably going to kill her, before she gives in. Unbelievable how such a frail creature can put up so much of a fight."_

Maeglin snarls at the guard, who instinctively takes a step back to his partner, after he just walked up to the officer.

Then the hunter relaxes and shakes his head and the tension in the room lessens.

"You are right, Ulfwin. Of course, she's worth nothing to us if she's dead.

Wherever Hawke is hiding, the elf may be our only way to find her."

X

He walks back to the door and leans against the wall next to the two guards.

Then he takes a small pouch of tobacco out of a belt pocket along with a simple horn pipe.

He fills his pipe, lights it and then offers the pouch to his two fellow templars.

One declines, the one who held him back, a short, thin, brown haired youth, with barely a hint of the beard he seems to desperately want, the other a burly, stout man with coarse skin and short black hair and a face covered three of four fourth in a black beard, sprinkled with gray, accepts.

He fills his own corn pipe and starts to smoke away.

After he has taken a few calming puffs, Maeglin starts to talk.

"I don't get it. Whether she loves the champion or not, she must know it will only earn her more pain to keep quiet and in the end it will avail to nothing. Hawke's face is known by almost every man and woman in the Free Marches, she can't get away. So why not give in?"

The younger guard frowns and when he answers there seems to be some yearning in his voice.

"What if... I mean if she really loves the champion so much... Maybe she feels even the chance that Hawke may escape is enough to sacrifice her own life."

Maeglin shakes his head vehemently.

"No, no, Ulfwin. You can't think of her like of a regular human.

First of all the knife ears are traitorous scum anyway. Secondly, she is an apostate, a blood mage even. She's forfeited her soul a long time ago, if elves even have one. She is a monster in and of itself.

Mark my words. I'll get her to scream Hawke's hiding place at the top of her lungs."

X

The young guard doesn't seem to be fully convinced, yet he knows speaking his mind would do no good and would perhaps even put him under suspicion, given the troubled times the templars and the chantry are experiencing.

The second, older guard points his pipe at the limp form of Merrill.

"That there is a strange 'un. I tell ya. When we got to her, she fought like a wild cat. Killed almost twenty of us and without turning as well. Made the earth and the plants go against us, she did. Pulled Padraic and Luitgo down into the ground. Aye, she did.

I've seen my share of desp'rate mages, and I was sure we'd have to fight an abomination any moment, but no, she remained herself."

"Humph! You probably were fast enough to dispell her magic."

Maeglin sneered, that was of course the only possible explanation.

"Na-ah. We din't even got that close for a long time and even when a few of us tried to block her powers, we din't manage. She is a strong one, yes she is."

"What do you want me to think, Gedric? That she has so much willpower, that she will not break? Is that it?"

A threat managed to sneak into the voice of the hunter and the older guard was quick to answer.

"Nay, 'course not. 'm not of that mind. It's just that it was strange, her being a blood mage and all, I was sure she would turn, yet she din't."

"Who knows what went through her mind? She might have thought she could win without resorting to a demon's help. She might have thought the Champion would come to rescue her little elven bitch. Frankly, I don't care. All that matters is to get her to talk, and I have lots of ideas left to ease her tongue."

And Maeglin smiled, a smile so vicious and so full of evil intent that even the hardened veteran Gedric couldn't help but feel an ounce of sympathy with the frail looking young woman.

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><p>X<p>

_A.N._

_I decided on shorter chapters, instead of posting the story as one large mass._

_Not so much, because of time between posts, because I already have the story almost finished. No it's more because I think, like with a book, a good story needs to be organized._

_Okay, the next and final point is elvish. In the game Merrill uses "Ma vhenan" repeatedly as a term of endearment for Hawke. _

_At first you would think it means "my heart/ love", but according to what is known of the elven languages it means "your heart" and "my heart" would mean "emma vhenan." There are some theories discussed over at the dragon age wiki, how this works, but I digress._

_I know all of this, but I chose to use the phrase as it is used in the game, instead of changing it to "emma vhenan", after all Merrill is Dalish and should know best, shouldn't she? _


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's ranting:_

_Okay, nothing much to say, except for one thing._

_Torturing my sweet Merrill really was awful, but I told myself I'm doing it for the sake of the story. _

_Seriously, it's not like I get a kick out of writing torture, but it was necessary to show the depravity of her tormentors._

Anyways, as always speech is indicated by""

_Thoughts are indicated by "" and written in cursive._

**bold** is used to emphasise certain things.

_And just because I love to do it, let me state once more that I own nothing in this work of fiction except in a very small way my avatar's depiction and my words._

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><p>X<p>

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Chapter 2

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The light from the fireside threw a complex pattern of shadows on the bare backside of the woman before him.

Knight-Commander Maedhros couldn't help clicking his tongue in appreciation at the sight.

Bev (_was that her name?)_ certainly had a nice figure, well rounded and feminine, while very toned and muscular at the same time.

Maedhros was especially thankful for her tight, nicely shaped ass, which she was presenting him so shamelessly, while she gazed out of the window.

She stood there, somewhat forlorn, her arms embracing herself, over the ample swell of her breasts and her eyes stared intently over the still dark city of Tintervale.

The room was spacious, but as highest ranking templar in the city, Maedhros felt he deserved it.

He also deserved the tapestries and paintings on the wall, the thick, fluffy carpet and the expensive furniture that was provided.

Not a thought was spend on the surviving mages and their sympathizers in the damp dungeons and the hardships they had to endure from his men.

And if he spend a thought on them, only to recognize that they deserved their fates and worse.

X

The templar commander wasn't that interested why his newest prize, seemed to be in a sour mood, but since he **was **interested in having some more fun with her, he decided to act as if.

"Is there something wrong, Bev?"

He inquired and was pleased how much he sounded like he sincerely cared.

At his question, the woman turned to him and smiled. Granting him clear view of her equally charming front.

She looked to be in her mid-twenties, only the shadows and some small wrinkles around the eyes hinting that she might actually be significantly older.

Her complexion was healthy, if a little bit dark, as if her skin had seen large amounts of sun for a longer period or as if she was from Antivan or even Rivain descent.

She was tall for a woman, with high set, firm breasts and defined muscles on both torso and appendages.

Her hair was cut very short and a fair, shining red, it showed of a beautifully sculpted head with a sharp, aristocratic nose (if a bit too thin and long perhaps), full lips and high cheekbones.

When Maedhros had met her yesterday evening in his favourite tavern, the "Speared Boar," she wore a warm orange-red lipstick and eye shadow, which had accentuated her brilliant green eyes in a most intriguing way.

Those eyes and her body dressed in a tight leather armour, which showed a fairly large amount of lush flesh, were what had first made him notice her.

To his delight she was also quite charming, with humour and wit on par with her looks.

She was a mercenary, who had worked in King Alistair's army for the last 10 years, even gaining a touch of a Fereldan accent during that time.

Now she was looking for work, and the severance pay she had received when she left Fereldan's service made it possible for her to choose her assignment instead of taking whatever job she was offered.

After they had both consumed large amounts of the dry, white wine, which was the speciality of the "Boar", it had been fairly easy to get her to agree to accompany him to his quarters in the fortress.

X

The woman slowly strode to Maedhros bedstead, her hips swinging in an enticing way, even if it seemed to be her natural gait.

She sank to her knees beside him and leaned forward to give him a short kiss.

Then she set herself back again and her smile turned a tad melancholic.

"What is it, beautiful?"

The Templar asked and somehow managed to let no hint of his growing annoyance show in his voice.

"_Damn it, women are always governed by their feelings. I hope she doesn't get all moody now. _

_I have to fuck her some more, she's the best I've had for a long time."_

"It's really nothing, Maedhros. I just... I was just wondering, where life has taken me and what has gone lost on the way."

Maedhros shuddered inwardly. She had been much more fun yesterday.

"_Leave it to a woman, to get all emotional. Well time to get that old charm working"_

"It can't be that bad, can it? After all it has led you into the bed of the knight-commander of Tintervale.

And we did have a lot of fun, as far as I remember."

Her smile returned, yet it was quite enigmatic by now.

"So. As far as you remember, you say? Maybe that's not as much as you think..."

Now this was turning out to get really annoying, but the sight of her enticing body on his bed beside him, was enough to let him keep his temper in check.

"I really don't know what you mean by that. I remember the night vividly, each and every satisfying moment."

"Satisfying moments? Is that so?"

Her smile lighted up and for a moment he felt his heart skip a beat. There was just something about her smile, when she seemed really happy, that touched you and made you feel special.

The next moment she gracefully moved behind him, her breast brushing over his shoulder in passing.

Then she pressed herself against his back, rested her chin on his shoulder and slung her arms around him.

She rubbed her body sensuously against him and started to run her fingers through his chest hair.

"So what are you planning to do next, Sir Knight-Commander? Do you plan to ravish me once again?"

"If I get the chance, I might. Why? What do you want me to do?"

Her legs wandered forward along his thighs and slipped over his legs, as if her whole body was embracing him now.

"What I want?"

She mused for a moment, as if she had to really think about it.

"I'd really love it if you just went to sleep again. It is really unfortunate that the elixir didn't put you down longer."

What was she saying? And why was one of her arms choking him now, while she used the other to apply more force to it? And her legs were effectively holding him down as well.

Maedhros struggled, but the woman's hold on him was strong.

It seemed as if she was stronger than him. He couldn't break free and already his vision became more and more blurry and narrowed.

Finally his frantic thoughts dulled and he faded into oblivion.

X

X

He had no idea, how long it took for him to regain consciousness, yet when he came to not much time appeared to have past.

His throat and chest hurt like hell, but he was a seasoned enough warrior to not pay too much mind to that.

The woman, Bev was fully dressed now. In addition to her leather armour, she wore one of his chain-mail armoured breeches and a templar surcoat.

She had his shield fastened on her back and was in the process of swinging his longsword, probably attempting to get a feel for the weapon and judge its balance.

The templar shifted his weight, trying to get enough air into his aching lungs to scream for the guards.

Bev, sensing this, dropped the sword, turned around and let a kick fly to his head. Her boot caught Maedhros straight in the face with a sickening crunch and blood burst from his mouth and nose.

The Knight-Commander was thrown backwards on the bed again, continued to tumble from the momentum and fell down over the edge to the floor, heavily.

Before he managed to collect even one thought, the woman had cleared the bed in one fluid motion and crouched down beside him.

A dagger appeared in her hand as if out of thin air and was at his throat a second later.

X

"One loud noise and I kill you!

Andraste guide me, it's what you deserve anyway!

Only the fact that I don't want to kill a helpless enemy keeps you alive right now."

Maedhros throat dried rapidly, his tongue sticking to his gums.

There was so much anger and resolution in her eyes, he had absolutely no doubt she would follow through on her words.

His eyes widened at the hatred he could feel behind those beautiful eyes.

Those eyes... something about those eyes...

"_No, it's not possible. It can't be, she looks nothing like... But those eyes are exactly like hers were described."_

"You! I know who you are... But how is it possible? How...

"Bev's" eyes widened slightly in surprise, but then quickly refocused she smirked derisively.

"Oh, shut up! As if I would tell you, you disgusting pig."

She shook her head, remembering his lips on hers, his hands all over her body and shuddered.

Luckily he had been out fast after she slipped the little potion into his wine.

Funny, he believed himself to be so sophisticated, but he didn't even notice the wine tasted different.

Losing herself in her thoughts had been a mistake, as she was to find out instantly, when the templar let his head fall back to the ground, distancing his throats from her dagger, while he gripped her wrists at the same moment.

Or rather tried to, because a twist with the knife led to his hands being cut up badly.

"Bev" nailed his left hand to the floor by stabbing the palm with the dagger and pressed her elbow hard against his throat.

Maedhros struggled weakly with his bleeding right hand to get her off, but he could get no leverage.

The woman thrust her elbow once more against his throat and then clawed her hands in his hair.

She smacked his head hard against the wooden floor, once, twice yet still he didn't stop fighting back.

"Bev" removed the dagger from his hand and led it to his throat once again, his bleeding hands fighting her for every inch as he grew more and more desperate.

"I wish, I really wished I would feel more remorse about what I'm going to do now, but frankly I feel so much hate for your order right now, that I'd gladly kill every templar I could get my hands on.

But then I'd be no different from you and that is why I'll kill you because it's necessary and not because I get satisfaction by doing it."

Then she slit his throat with one quick move and jumped back, so his blood wouldn't soil the disguise she'd just donned.

Maedhros made a few pitiful, wet sounds as he choked on his own blood, his limbs flailed around wildly and then gradually his movements grew weaker, until he finally lay still.

He had breathed his last.

X

The woman who had just killed the city's knight-commander slowly walked around the bedstead, reached the sword laying on the floor and retrieved it.

She made a few thrusts, swings and parries until she got a feeling for the blade.

"_Hm, it might not be the Key, but it's not bad. It's well-balanced and of good quality. It will do for this one occasion."_

Treading careful so as not to soil her soles, she dragged the body to the wardrobe and placed it inside, bolting the door shut.

Then she took a blanket from the bed and draped it over the blood on the floor.

When she reached the door, she turned around once more and let her gaze wander around the room one last time.

It was alright, it would pass at least a short inspection.

"Bev" steeled herself, getting in and taking out the knight-commander was only the beginning, she had an important mission to accomplish here in the fortress and nothing and no one was allowed to get in her way.

She opened the door and walked onto the corridor with a confident stride.  
>X<p>

Twenty minutes later she reached the stairs leading down to the dungeons.

She had passed a couple of templars and guards on her way, but everything went smoothly.

She exchanged a few greetings, saluted two officers and now she had almost reached her goal.

She checked left, she checked right and then she opened the big, metal-reinforced door and quietly slipped through it.

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><p>X<p>

_**A.N.**_

_Well. That is the second chapter up in one evening, I'm so proud of myself I could cry... just kidding._

_I won't insult your intelligence by thinking there is anybody who doesn't know who "Bev" is by now, but just in case you were stoned, or way too tired and you somehow missed it, she is of course Hawke, the champion of Kirkwall. Taadaa! I bet you are so surprised._

_Please let me see some reviews, either condemn me or praise me, but give me a reaction._


	3. Chapter 3

_**Author's ranting:**_

_Okay, still not much to say. I'm sorry it took so long, but I worked so hard on my stories in the first week that I lost all drive over the holidays._

_ And believe it or not, this week I already had some business meetings._

_In my vacation time... the nerve of some people._

_There will be one more chapter. It is already finished and I'll upload on sunday after I've finished editing._

_Please believe me, I really don't enjoy writing torture, but if it doesn't hurt then it's no good writing, or is it?_

Anyways, as always speech is indicated by""

_Thoughts are indicated by "" and written in cursive._

**bold** is used to emphasise certain things.

**Disclaimer: **_And just because I love to do it, let me state once more that I own nothing in this work of fiction except in a very small way my avatar's depiction and my words._

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><p>X<br>X

**I love Hawke!**

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Chapter Three

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It is pain which rouses Merrill from her unconscious state.

Through pain she had blacked out, through pain she was now waking up again.

She can't discern where the pain originates from at first, then the burning sensation on her face etches itself into her mind.

Her face is wet and... cool? In parts, while other parts feel red hot and searing from pain.

With a lot of effort she opens her right eye a bit and tries to take in what is in front of her, but her vision is blurry and misted over and so she is forced to open her unhurt left eye as well.

Maeglin is looming over her, his concentrated expression changes to a broad smile, as he realizes she is awake.

"Ah, my darling. I see that you are gracing us with your company again.

And here I'm not even finished with cleaning up your pretty face."

"_Cleaning... my face? Why would he...?"_

He grips her chin with his hand and applies the piece of cloth in his other hand to a cut on her cheek. For a moment it cools the aching skin, but then the pain grows stronger and stronger.

"Oh, I'm sorry; did I forget to mention that I'm using a saline solution?

It might sting a bit."

He chuckles derisively and continues his work. Merrill struggles against him, but after days of torture, almost no sleep, food or drink, she is so weak.

Maeglin doesn't appear to have even the slightest problem continuing with his work.

The templar applies the salt water into her open wounds, almost tenderly, humming a soft tune to it.

"And this is only the beginning my lovely little knife-ear. Remember you brought this on yourself. So far I've been going easy on you, but believe me, when I'm through with you for today, not even your mother will recognize the quivering bundle of raw flesh I'm going to turn you into."  
>He giggles again, sounding like the evil version of an insolent child and not for the first time Merrill recognizes more than just a hint of madness in the lieutenant's voice.<p>

He quickly finishes with her face and starts working on her arms and legs, she doesn't know the reason but she cannot longer manage to drone out the pain. Each wound he applies the salt to is flaring up with pain, adding to what was already there. Merrill feels herself get lost in the pain. Nothing exists but the pain and the visage of her tormentor in front of her.

At first she had hoped that sleeping would have given her some of her strength back, but strangely enough it is the exact opposite.

She can't struggle any more. Her body shivers in shock and pain, she's crying uncontrollable and her mouth opens and closes, forming unspoken words or unvoiced screams.

X

At the door Ulfwin shifts uncomfortably, he knows the face of the elven mage is going to haunt him. Finally the fight is washed out of her and Maeglin's latest torment has broken her.

Her beautiful, alien features are contorted into a mask of fear and pain, sullied, unwashed, stinking, she's reduced to not much more than an animal.

He pity's her, he really does. He feels pity for a lot of the mages.

Children, young women, old people; His order doesn't make any difference anymore, all mages are treated equally horrible and it doesn't take a lot of proof for any of them to be treated like an apostate or an abomination.

But after what happened in Kirkwall, what is he supposed to do? His life would be on the rope easy enough, if he dared to voice his opinion and so he keeps his mouth shut and prays for guard duty at a better place than the dungeon.

If he'd known Maeglin would go so far with his torture, he'd have asked one of his comrades who takes pleasure in this form of entertainment to change postings with him.

Now it is too late, but judging from the state she's in, at least it will be over today.

Gedric doesn't think much, he doesn't like torture, but in his long career he has seen more than his share of it, it doesn't move him anymore.

He can even apply torture when it is necessary, he just blends out the fact that the prisoners are living, thinking beings, besides elves aren't even human.

In fact if you asked him, all of them, Qunari, Elves, even the dwarfs, they aren't that much better than the blight itself. Alien beings all of them, not proper people.

What Maeglin is feeling is better left unsaid, suffice to say that he enjoys himself and is very much in his element at the moment, as he slowly cuts away the remains of the elf's tunic, leaving her nude but for what's left of her underwear. It had been a good idea to only let her stay unconscious for half an hour. It left her disoriented, but wasn't long enough to let her regain energy.

X

Something is bothering Merrill and she tries feverishly to remember what it is.

Yes, right. She is not allowed to give in to the pain, she can't succumb to the templars.

Lorelei will come for her, she knows she'll come.

The elf has only two choices, she can endure as long as it takes for her love to arrive, or she can die.

What she cannot do is tell the templars what they want to know.

She remembers Hawke's arms around her, the way she always feels safe when she is in her embrace. She remembers the feeling of Hawke's lips on hers, the human's voice when she whispers words of love in her ears.

Merrill thinks three words:

"_I love Hawke!"_

She stops shivering and with an enormous effort of will, she opens her eyes again and the fire is back in her great, green orbs.

Maeglin actually steps back as he notices the defiance in the elven mage eyes.

A moment ago, she was reduced to a quivering mass of flesh and now...

Merrill's mouth opens again and this time sound does actually emit.

"I love Hawke."

"I don't want to hear that, you bitch! Where is the champion?"

"I love Hawke."

"Shut up. Where is Lorelei Hawke? Where is she?"

"I love Hawke."

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!"

Each cry accompanied by a slash with his dagger at Merrill's defenceless, bound body.

Merrill starts to cry again, she feels her blood seep from the deep cuts and she can't help it, but she will not give in.

"... I... l-love... H-hawke!"

Something snaps inside Maeglin. He raises his hand and without thinking he stabs his dagger into her side.

Merrill screams in shock, both guards start moving towards them, even Maeglin stumbles a few feet backwards.

He stares at his empty hand, stares at the knife still sticking out from above Merrill's hips.

The elven girl fights for a laboured, ragged breath... once, twice.

Her eyes grow even wider as she pleads with her prison warden through them.

She draws one more breath and whispers one word.

"H-hawke."

Then her head drops to her chest and she is silent.

The templar hunter looks at the two guards.

"She... I... I...I didn't want to... she made me... Always this one stupid sentence."

The two of them look at each other, at their officer, then they nod and Gedric quickly assures him.

"O-of course. It's understandable. She provoked you too much."

And Ulfwin adds.

"M-maybe she's not dead. Check her, she might be alive."

At this moment a strange sound makes them aware of the fifth person to enter the torture chamber.

A red-headed, tall woman in a templar armour, with a shield on her arm.

She stands motionless in the door. Her face under the dark skin tone has turned sickly pale.

The choking noise she has just made is what drew attention to her.

X

Moments ago Lorelei had opened the door. It had taken some time to find the right cell.

She had slowly descended down the circular staircase to the cellars of the templar fortress, passing the regular cellar level and continuing down to the dungeons.

At the end of the stairs she encountered a second sturdy wooden door, thankfully this one wasn't locked.

As was to be expected, since there was regular traffic down to the cells and torture rooms. Each day mages, who died or were made tranquil left the dungeon and new prisoners were brought in.

For a moment Hawke closed her eyes. If only she could do more. If only she had forces enough to free the prisoners here. But she was alone, her companions spread to the four winds, only Bethany and Merrill remained.

And if she failed today... no she couldn't think about failure.

"_But it's been almost a week, what if she... no. NO!"_

Hawke shakes her head, Merrill is alive, she has to be alive.

She feels a bit weak in the knees suddenly and rests her head against the cold stones of the wall next to the door.

In her head she replays a memory she has seen for, oh so many times in the last few days...

x

x

The room was shabby and small. It was even worse than Merrill's home in the Kirkwall alienage. But beggars can't be choosers and Hawke was thankful that the mage underground is providing them with this flat.

And yet... and yet the difference between her ancestral home in Hightown is … vast. Hawke would never admit it, but she even misses her servants.

It was nice not to have to bother with stuff like laundry or cooking dinner. And she misses Bodahn and Sandal and dear little Orana, because they were her friends.

As if she has somehow sensed her love's thoughts Merrill looks up from the herbs she is preparing and asks.

"Do you think Bodahn and Sandal are safe with the Orlesians?"

"I sure hope so. And I hope Orana has arrived in the new elven lands in Ferelden. She's got enough money and the captain was trustworthy, but she is so innocent. I guess we couldn't have done more for them, but still I wished there was a way to be certain they are all alright."

And after reflecting on it for a moment longer.

"And Varric, Isabella and Sebastian. Are they okay? Is Aveline still holding her position as captain of the guard? And what of Gamlen? I hope he and Charade are not in trouble because of me."

The warrior buries her head in her hands and drops her shoulders in defeat,

Merril simply nods and calmly fills her herbs in one of her pouches.

She stands up and comes over to sit beside Hawke on their small bedstead.

She gently puts an arm around Hawke's shoulders and cuddles closer.

"I'm just happy I can be together with you, I was afraid at first you'd send me away like the others."

Hawke smiles and turns her head to kiss the elf gently.

"You silly goose. What would I ever do without you?"

Merrill rubs her nose against Hawke's and blushes a little bit.

"Oh, oh. Silly me. Of course, my champion would be so lost without me."

Hawke just nods and let's the gaze of her green eyes sink deep into Merrill's own emerald's orbs.

Hawke's appearance had been changed a lot by the mirror of transformation, hair, skin tone, even some of her facial features, but when Merrill looked into her eyes, she knew her love was still the same inside.  
>"That I would. I know it's strange for the mighty champion of Kirkwall to be so dependant. You probably put an <em>Enchantment <em>on me."

She tried to say the word like Sandal used to and failed miseraby, but they both started laughing because of that.

When they returned to normal, Merrill gave Hawke a long sensuous kiss, that made the champions heart beat faster.

Lorelei tried to grab the mage, to continue what they'd just started, but Merrill slipped out of her grasp.

"No, I'm sorry, no time for that now. I have to go to the market to buy groceries."

"Really? Couldn't we just nibble on each other?"

"Don't be silly, Hawke."

Merrill laughed and wrapped her cloak around her.

"I'll be back soon and then we will prepare dinner, we can continue with... what we were doing afterwards."

Hawke smiled at her love and nodded her head again.

"I'd like that a lot, ma vhenan."

Merrill smiled back at the human, moved by the use of the elven endearment.

"I love you, Hawke."

"Love you, Merrill."

The slim elf grabbed her staff ( a regular one, not her magic wand) and her bags and left the small flat.

X

X

That was the last time she had seen Merrill. At first she hadn't thought anything was amiss, even after all those years living in Kirkwall the elf was still easily enchanted by new things. Perhaps she was flipping through a book or listening to a musician or storyteller.

But hour after hour passed and when Bethany returned from her meeting with the mage underground she had found her sister running around frantically in their small hideout.

They'd searched for Merrill for hours then finally an elven vegetable grocer, who Merril had befriended, told them the horrible truth, that the elven mage had been taken by the templars.

She even closed her shop for the day and showed them where they'd captured Merrill.

Hawke had just stared at the cracked and scorched pavement and walls, the dried stains of blood everywhere.

By then the first Templar search troops had arrived and Bethany led Hawke away.

After that it had taken a lot of time to confirm what had happened to Merrill and where the templars held her and then they had to come up with a plan, that had at least a chance to succeed.

And now she was here in the cellar of the templar fortress in Tantervale.

Hawke straightened herself up and took a deep breath, then she grabbed the handle and opened the door.

X

The dungeon looked every bit as terrible as you would imagine.

Damp, rough set stonewalls, a low ceiling. Light provided by flickering torches, barely illuminated it.

The door led into something resembling a guards room.

Two templars sat lazily on a crude, wooden table, playing cards.

When they noticed Hawke's entry, their eyes lingered surprised at the strikingly beautiful, unknown officer.

"Ma'am?"

Hawke's eyes searched the room, apart from the table, four chairs and a small iron stove with a board next to it, it was practically empty.

A few weapons and armour racks, lined one wall, bare but for a few pikes and spears and a lonely shield.

"Nothing special, just go on as usual. I've been dispatched from Starkhaven to assist with the interrogation of a prisoner."

"Ah, alright. So who is so important that they send a special interrogator, and such a pretty one at that?"

Something of Hawke's usual indignation with such a loose way of talking seeped through her answer.

"I'm sorry, I might have misheard. You did not just make an improper remark to an officer, did you?"

The templar gulped and straightened himself up as if trying to stand at attention, while sitting.

"I'm sorry, Knight-Captain. I didn't mean to be disrespectful. I..."

Hawke eased off the pressure instantly.

"Not really a problem, soldier, but watch your manners against female comrades in arms in the future."

The guard nodded his head and Hawke continued.

"I've come to help with the elven mage, the little love bird of Kirkwall's former champion. Where do I find her?"

The guards looked at each other, somehow stressed, then one of them shrugged his shoulders.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. You might already be too late for that. Knight-Lieutenant Maeglin is handling her interrogation and he's very... eager, you could say.  
>He's been working on her for three days now and just some time ago he told us she was going to break today."<p>

The man stopped and Hawke felt her insides harden in fear.

"_Oh Merrill."_

She forced herself to appear calm. She had to find out where Merril was and she had to get rid off the guards quietly.

"Then I hope I can still be of help to the Lieutenant. Where did you say he was working on her?"

"Oh, it's the last door on the left, all the way down the corridor."

"And is he handling the interrogation alone?"  
>"He's doing it alone, but there are two guards on duty in the tortur... in the interrogation chamber."<br>_"Torture?"_

Hearing it said aloud somehow made it seem more real, a chill ran down Hawke's back, but she couldn't show how much this was troubling her.

"Say, you might not have some hot herbal tea in that jug over there?"

She asked innocently, having already recognized the scent of the fresh tea.

"Sure, help yourself, Knight-Captain. The cups are on that board by the stove."

Thankfully none of the two guards were eager to serve their officers.

She grabbed one of the tin cups and and walked back to the table, holding it up with her left hand, so that one of the guards could fill it with the steaming liquid.

At the same time her right hand slowly, careful not to draw attention, drew the small throwing knife from its sheath at the back of her belt.

Then, with a flick of her wrist she flung the cup and its hot content at the face of the guard in front of her. The man jerked back and lifted his hands in defence.

Hawke's right hand swung forward and she buried the knife deep into the soldiers throat.

She withdrew it immediately, turned around to face the man sitting opposite from his gargling comrade. Using the motion she loosed the knife and it buried itself in the guards neck.

She quickly crossed the 1-2 meters between herself and the templar. Her left hand covering his mouth to hinder him from screaming, while her right hand grabbed the knife's hilt. She hesitated for a small moment, then she jerked the knife to the left, right through the guard's throat.

X  
>X<p>

* * *

><p>X<br>X

_**A.N.** _

_Nothing new, just wait one more day for the last chapter and finally some fluff and love, not just violence and cruelty.__._


	4. Chapter 4

_**Author's ranting:**_

_Finally I'm finished with this chapter, now all that is left are two or three chapters for other stories, then I've roughly managed to keep my promises for the holidays in regard to fanfiction._

Anyways, as always speech is indicated by""

_Thoughts are indicated by "" and written in cursive._

**bold**is used to emphasise certain things.

**Disclaimer: **_And just because I love to do it, let me state a final time that I own nothing in this work of fiction except in a very small way my avatar's depiction and my words._

* * *

><p>X<p>

**I love Hawke!**

X

X

Chapter Four

X

X

Hawke had to act fast. There was no way to tell how long it would take until someone else came down here.

After one last glance at the two dead guards, she opened the door to the corridor and hurried along the dark passage.

Soon she reached the last door to the left.

She could hear nothing through the door, it was thick and well built, not a lot of sound came through it. She took the shield from her back and carefully slid her left arm through its attachment and gripped the handle with her hand.

All she had to do now was to draw her sword, when she was inside.

Hawke opened the door, stepped into the room and... froze in her tracks.

Her eyes couldn't accept what was in front of her.

Merrill's body hung limply in a big wooden chair, to which she was bound on her arms and legs with iron shackles. Her head lolled to the right, a small line of blood dripping from her mouth.

She was covered with cuts and bruises, open and already closed, a number of large cuts ran over her body and a dagger was buried in her side, above her hips.

A choked sound escaped Lorelei's throat.

She had known that the templars were not above torturing prisoners and to be honest she had expected that Merrill had suffered, but this...

Her heart raced so hard, it felt as if it would burst in her chest and she wasn't able to draw breath.

"_Am I too late? Is she already gone. Oh Andrastes's grace! After all I've lost please don't take away what's most precious to me. Maker's breath, just let her be alive."_

At last she came to her senses and sprung into action.

She bent her body down and to the right for more drive, before she swung her shield in an upward curve to the left, smashing it with all of her strength into the face of the first guard.

Then she spun around, turning the shield, so that it was almost horizontal and drove it into the other guards throat. With a sickening sound his trachea gave in and hands clutching at his neck he fell back against the wall, gargling.

The man standing beside Merrill hadn't moved; with wide open eyes he stared at the woman in front of him, simply not believing what his eyes told him.

That a superior officer had just walked in and dispatched both guards within seconds.

Hawke 's face was a stern mask, as she slowly drew the sword.

The man in a templar hunter's garb still didn't move, but slowly realization dawned in his eyes.

Before Hawke reached him, he finally drew his short swords and prepared to defend himself.

"Who are you? Wh-what do you think you'll achieve by doing this?"

Hawke walked closer, her movements now graceful and deadly like a panther's.

"Who I am? Well that's easy. I'm Lorelei Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall.

What I'm doing here? I'm going to kill you. And then I'm going to take my love away from here to safety."

"The champion... but you are..."

He stopped and squinted his eyes, thinking.

"Your love?... What? You mean the elven witch? Then you are really... But she's already dea..."

"Shut up! Hold your lying tongue!"  
>"Even if she still breathes, how are you going to move her out of here, while fighting through a whole army of templars?"<p>

Hawke forced herself to smile, she couldn't show the man how much she worried about Merrill.

"There aren't that many templars here at the moment, are there? Most of the garrison is running around in the woods, searching for an Apostate hideout.

We took extra effort to make it look convincing. Besides, until somebody finds your dead Knight-Commander or the guards in the guard station, no one even knows I'm here.

I don't plan on staying here that long."

"What's going to keep me from calling for help?"

Hawke smiled again, how typical.

"I'm not going to stop you. No one on this floor is alive, who isn't in a holding cell. The door is thick, the walls are thick and people are used to screams coming from a torture chamber."

"What if I..."

Hawke's temper rose.

"Enough talking. Defend yourself!"

She stormed forward and tried to shield bash the enemy, but the hunter despite being fearfully aware of facing the champion of Kirkwall on his own, quickly stepped aside and swung his swords against Hawke's unprotected back.

Hawke dropped to one knee and brought her shield up to guard her back.

With the shield she pressed the swords aside, twisted her body while turning upwards and swung her sword at the opponent.

The hunter jumped backwards so that the sword just grazed over his armour, without cutting it.

Hawke growled in frustration, she wasn't used to fighting with sword and shield, she wished she could have taken the Key with her.

The opponents circled each other, searching for an opening.

They exchanged a few careful blows, but nothing really threatening the others defence.

Hawke's mind raced, she had no time.

She decided to risk it and quickly let go of the shield, holding it at the edge and then she threw it straight at the Templar.

Her hands gripped the hilt of the longsword, like she was used too with her two-handed weapons and she lunged forward at her enemy.

Maeglin had crossed his arms before his face to stop the shield and instinctively took a step backward.

Hawke feinted a high chop with her sword, the templar moved to catch her blade with both of his weapons, at the last possible moment Hawke turned away and swung her blade past the guard and sliced from the side downwards into the templars thigh, tearing muscle tissue and flesh.

Maeglin's leg gave away under him and he struggled to remain standing.

In the next instant Hawke's knee rammed mercilessly into his wounded thigh.

The templar screamed in pain, fell down and clutched his leg with his right hand. Therefore he had to drop one of his blades.

The champion attacked unrelentingly; she swung her blade with both hands and stroke a blow against Maeglin's head.

The templar managed to block her blade, so she stroke again, once, twice.

With her third blow, Maeglin's guard caved in and her sword struck deep in the templars head and face.

With a wet, gargling noise, Maeglin's body jerked heavily, he dropped his last sword and began to shake convulsively on the floor.

Hawke buried her sword deep in his guts and then she wiped the blade clean on his tunic.

He wasn't dead, but with wounds like this he was sure to die in a matter of minutes and Hawke certainly wasn't going to give him a mercy kill.

Since her escape from Kirkwall something inside her had changed. Too often her mercy had been seen as a weakness, too many people had betrayed her trust, not the last of them Anders and Fenris. The murderer and the traitor.

X

She sheathed her weapon and hurried over to Merrill's side, dropping to her knees beside the elven sorceress.

A quick check on her throat reviled a faint pulse and Hawke sighed in relief. At least she wasn't dead already.

"Merrill? Merrill honey, please answer me. Don't die on me, Merrill. Don't leave me."

She stroke the elf's matted hair and gently pressed her brow against Merrill's.

Merrill didn't answer and Hawke wasted no more time.

With a few quick moves of her knife and a steel pin she opened the shackles and freed Merrill's arms and legs. She was thankful to Varric and Isabella for teaching her to pick at least simple locks.

In the next step she removed her borrowed templar surcoat and spread it on the ground and with the utmost care she placed the frail, wounded, nude form of the elven mage on the coat.

She quickly took out a healing poultice and carefully removed the dagger from Merrill's side. She cleaned the wound and gently applied the poultice, securing it in place with a bandage from her injury kit.

There wasn't much time, but she had to at least stop the bleeding from the deep cuts across Merrill's body; so she applied the poultice to them as well.

The elf still didn't wake and Hawke thought about just carrying her over her shoulders, but first she needed some clothes for her.

The pieces that were left of Merrill's tunic were dirty and in tatters. Looking at the piece of clothing and the state of her lover's body, Hawke felt the need to scream again and it took a lot of effort to reign herself in.

Rage and blind fury wouldn't help her here.

Kirkwall's champion checked the other two templars.

The one whose throat had been crushed by her shield was dead, probably suffocated on his own blood. He was old with a full beard and not in that good a shape.

The other one was just passed out, although a small trickle of blood from his ears hinted at a possibly serious head injury.

He was relatively small for a human and thin, his clothes would probably fit Merrill well enough for a short time.

Hawke took his weapons and threw them to the other side of the room, then she quickly robbed him of his armour, his tunic and his breeches.

The templar moaned a bit, while she undressed him, but didn't wake up.

Returning to Merrill, she quickly dressed the mage in the man's breeches and tunic.

She acted as careful and gentle as possible in the understandable hurry she needed to employ.

Still, she couldn't help causing Merrill some pain as the elven girl winced quietly one or two times.

Hawke actually was a bit happy about this, at least she was alive enough to feel the pain.

When she was finished, she began to gently tap Merrill's cheek with her hand, speaking softly to her.

"Merrill? Please wake up, honey. I'm taking you out of here, but I need you to be conscious at least for a while."

After some time Merrill did stir a little and Hawke gently cupped her face with both hands.

"Merrill? Merrill, my love?"

"M-ma vhenan?"

A weak, almost toneless whisper, but Merrill's big, emerald eyes opened. Well at least the left eye opened, the right was still almost swollen shut.

"Merrill."

The champion whispered and unbelievably gently she kissed Merrill's parched and swollen lips. Tears flowed freely from her eyes.

The elf's lips returned the kiss eagerly and she cried as well.

As always, her saviour had arrived. She knew deep in her heart, that Hawke would always be there for her and only death could pry them apart.

She send a short prayer to Mythal and Elgarn'nan, thanking them for the strength to survive until Hawke arrived and to Falon'Din for not answering her plea for a painless death.

"Y-you c-came, H-hawke."

"Of course, Merrill."

Hawke almost choked on her words, so moved was she to hear the voice of her beloved again.

"I'm so, so sorry that I took this long. I came here as soon as possible. I..."

"Shh, ma vhenan. I know. You need not apologize."

Merrill gasped from a sting of pain and continued.

"J-just get m-me o-out of h-here, p-lease. I c-can't..."

"Alright, Merril."

Hawke opened a pouch fastened to her belt and pulled a small bottle, filled with a strange orange liquid, out of it.

"But first you'll have to drink this. It is a mixture of water, stamina- and elfroot potion in about equal parts. Bethany created it. It will give you some strength and not put too much pressure on your system."

When she saw Merrill make a face, she continued.

"Don't worry, Beth' added lots of honey to it, so it's not bitter. It actually tastes quite nice."

She propped Merrill up on her right arm and held the open bottle with her left to the elf's mouth. Merrill tentatively took a sip and when she found the taste to her liking she downed the rest of the drink. The effect was almost instantly, colour returned to Merrill's cheeks and a bit of fire to her eyes.

"So you tasted my medicine? That's not nice, if it was mine I mean."

She sounded as naïve as when she first arrived in Kirkwall but a glimmer of joy in her eyes revealed she was just teasing her champion.

Hawke laughed softly.

"Wow! I have to tell Beth' how good this stuff works, you have enough energy to make fun of me."

Merrill laughed as well, but the laughing quickly turned into a coughing fit and she winced in pain.

Hawke's fear rose again. She gently held the elf until the coughing subsided, speaking soothing words to her. With a handkerchief she cleaned her lover's face from the worst filth and grime.

"Take it easy Merrill. Relax as good as you can until we start to move."

Out of the same pouch, she had stored the potion, she pulled out a small pastry and a bar of honey-covered nuts, two of Merrill's favourite snacks.

Merrill smiled full of joy and thanks as the champion handed the treats to her.

"Don't eat to hastily, you are very weak. This will give you much needed nourishment, but don't eat more than you can handle."  
>Merrill nodded and she felt wrapped in Hawke's kindness and love, like in a warm blanket.<p>

A noise made Hawke aware of the surviving guard waking up.

Merrill flinched in fear at the noise and Hawke instantly felt her anger rise again. She was finding it harder and harder to keep her temper in check, after what the templars had done to her love.

She jumped to her feet and in two long strides she was at the templar's side, sword already in hand.

X

Ulfwin awoke with a terrible pain in his head. His whole face felt as if it was smashed flat.

He remembered the woman, the expression of disbelief and fury on her face and then the triangle of the shield zooming in on his head, hitting it with terrible force and sending him backwards against the wall.

Then he had lost his senses.

Awake now, the first thing he saw was the elven mage in the arms of the female officer. Then he realized he was nude up to his underpants and groaned.

Too late he realized this made the women aware of his presence and the next thing he knew, the human's sword was at his throat.

Shaking with fear he gazed at her and for the first time he realized she was very beautiful. Her green eyes burned with anger and passion; her red hair shone even in the dim light in this chamber.

He forgot about her beauty, when he saw the barely controlled rage in her face. Her whole body was shaking with anger.

"I... I never touched her. I... I was really... I felt sorry for her, but there was no way t-to help her."

"Sure. Sure! You couldn't help her, so you just watched as this... animal, this filth, tore into her. Yes! Alright! You are perfectly innocent."

"I-I am. I really am. I only... We can't do anything anymore.

B-before Kirkwall, we could be lenient, we could treat the mages like human... uh like normal beings, b-but since then... I have no choice. If I act too friendly I'll be put under surveillance. A lot of us have been thrown into the prisons ourselves, there have been death sentences for templars who allegedly conspired with mages."

For a moment it seemed as if the woman hesitated and Ulfwin dared to hope.

Then her jaw tightened and she replied.

"You know... before all of this with Meredith and Orsino... before two of my closest friends betrayed me. Before I was driven from the town I sacrificed friends and family, blood and tears, for.

Before all that, I'd have been the first to give you a second chance.

But you don't deserve it. You watched as the woman I love more than my own live was tortured, hurt, almost broken.

You didn't help her and you said yourself, you never helped any of the other victims."

She paused for a moment, then continued with more conviction.

"No. I will not spare any of you until your order gives in and listens to the chantry again and stops killing and pursuing mages...

I will not kill you.. even after everything that happened, I cannot kill you.

But I can make sure you are not longer capable of fighting for your order."

She grabbed her sword with both hands and before he could react, she brought it down on his right arm.

She chopped of his hand. Ulfwin screamed and curled up into a ball, clutching his bleeding arm to his chest.

Without a moment of hesitation, Hawke knelt beside the templar and drew her knife. Two deep, quick cuts in the back of the man's knees, destroying muscles and tendons.

This man would never run after a fleeing mage again, he would never march in a fighting force again.

Ulfwin's screams grew louder and he rocked his body back and forth.

Hawke moved closer to his ears.

"The funny thing is, Templar, if there was a mage around who was well enough to cast a complicated healing spell, both your hands and the full use of your legs might be saved, but you templars made that impossible."  
>The man just continued to sob and scream.<p>

One blow to his temple with the hilt of the sword knocked him out.

She ripped pieces from the dead guard's coat and roughly bandaged the man's wounds.

When she returned to Merrill, the mage watched her with wide, doe eyes.

"A-are you alright, L-lorelei?"

Hawke looked away for a moment, when she returned Merrill's gaze she looked guilty.

"Y-yes. I'm sorry, my love. Y-you shouldn't have to see me doing things like this. I'm just so angry... ever since Anders... Fenris... Orsino.

Betrayed. By all of them. "

She sighed.

"In hindsight it seems like everything connected to Kirkwall has been one betrayal after another."

Merrill searched for an answer, the pain in Hawke's eyes was two-fold.

The champion felt pain because of her- Merril's, torment and she still felt the pain over how her life in Kirkwall had ended.

"Wait here for a moment, love. I'm going to let the other prisoners out of their cells, to keep the guards occupied and then I'll get you."

"Hawke, wait..."

But the champion didn't listen.

She searched Maeglins body for the keys and then, having found it, she left the room.

Merrill rested on Hawke's coat and tried to gather as much energy as she could from the soil beneath her, to replenish her health and strength.

The land was tainted by the dark deeds the templars performed here, but her keeper skills still helped a lot.

Hawke returned after a short time and was pleasantly surprised to find Merrill able to stand on her feet, albeit a bit wobbly.

She hurried to her lover's side and quickly supported her with her arms.  
>After Merrill explained what she had done, the champion asked.<p>

"Do you think you can walk a few hundred meters, darling? In a thicket outside the fortress, Beth' is waiting with Raider. Do you think you can manage that far or should I carry you?"

Her voice was full of concern. Merrill breathed calmly and as deep as her wounds allowed.

"Let's see how far I can walk on my own, Hawke. If I'm not strong enough, you can always carry me then."

Hawke nodded and her arms wrapped themselves, protective and supportive around her elven lover as they started to walk.

X

A few hours later, they were in a closed carriage, Merrill resting on a makeshift bedstead, Raider the Mabari at her feet and her love by her side.

Bethany had reluctantly agreed to control the carriage for the time being. They were on their way to the next sea harbour.

After they had managed to escape the templars clutches one more time, they had decided it was finally time to leave the Free Marches" for good.

For now they would set sail to Ferelden, but the Hawke sisters were relatively sure, it would only be a way-point before a farther destination.

Hawke carefully and gently cleaned the elven mage's body and wounds with pieces of soft cloth, treating the wounds with poultices and bandaging them.

Every movement, every tender touch conveyed the depth of her love for the other woman.

Bethany had cast a healing spell to deal with the worst wounds, but there was still plenty left.

Under Hawke's gentle administrations, Merrill felt the pain dull and her body relaxed for the first time in a week.

The champion dumped the last bloodstained cloth into the bucket with warm water and treated the last bruise on Merrill's cheek.

Her hand rested there for a while, gently cupping her lover's face.

Hawke's right hand held Merrill's as if she never ever planned to let go of her.

She leaned in and pressed a kiss on the elf's lips. Merrill eagerly returned it and even opened her mouth to welcome Hawke's tongue.

The kiss grew deeper until Hawke restrained herself.

She was breathing heavily and the bliss on Merrill's face mixed with pain from the exertion.

"It seems I can't trust myself with you, my little wild flower. I'll have to keep myself in check."

Merrill nodded and smiled weakly.

"But you can at least lay beside me and hold me, can't you?"

She asked with large, pleading eyes.

A nod and a happy smile was the only answer.

Hawke squeezed herself onto the bunk beside her love and gently held her.

"I love you, Merril."

The elf nodded, a blissful smile on her face.

"I love Hawke."

She replied and drifted into the first peaceful sleep since her capture.

X

X

* * *

><p>X<br>X

_**A.N:**_

_Finally finished, please write and review, even if you drop just one line, it will help fuel my energy for more stories._

_And to all Fenris fans, I don't hate the guy, but this Hawke was betrayed by him and so she doesn't like him anymore._

_Anders is a whole different story. The DA II Anders is a murderous arse._


End file.
